Chorus: This little gangsta went to spark it This little gangsta got blown This little gangsta had mad beef This little gangsta got a gun These little gangsta went ‘bang bang bang’ Bleeding all the way home Phonetix: I’m not gangsta, and I don’t wanna be or need to be I spit rhymes both consciously and spiritually I’m Teddy Gristle man, you won’t see a change in me On stage or on route what you get is what you see I’m sick of hearing it sick seeing it sick of people feeling it Sick of young 'uns looking up to it I’m sick of dealing with it sick, of people associating me with it When all I stand for wants to expose and battle it Yeah I know some of them rappers have got sick flows And sick shows, sick rims on benzos and six figure bling clothes Sick beats and sick ho’s in videos cause sick minds and cash money inflate egos I’ll destroy it with my mic contradict it with my life Stay true to what’s real if I die in the fight Spit truth to peeps, ballers and G’s, cause sick crews rule everything around me S.C.R.E.A.M Chorus Mr Prince Open your eyes and you’ll find Deep inside these a side That’s designed to reflect the divine Eject inspect and you’ll find That the truth of these rhymes Are designed to infect and incline Let me tell you what you’ll hear about me I don’t hustle on the grind like a P.I.M.P Don’t creep like TLC catching HIV If you’re looking for a soldier then don’t call me I’m sold out for making music for change Not cash money but the kinda change won’t leave you the same The kinda change that will keep kids from grabbing the nine Joining the life of villain in the pen serving up time I’m writing rhymes for all those cats on road Claiming “street life’s” the only life they know On the hustle trying to make up the doe But what good is it to gain the whole world if you loose your soul Chorus